


Drive

by Scancrasher



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 12:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18446477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scancrasher/pseuds/Scancrasher
Summary: Bumblebee is out for a drive, feeling charged-up and frustrated. When he happens across a drone, a chase ensues, followed by a solution to his problem that he did not exactly expect. Written for tfanonkink.





	Drive

**Author's Note:**

> I legitimately thought I posted this to AO3 years ago? I have no idea how I didn't. Well, here it is. A few notes that I wrote when this first came out that still pertain:
> 
> -This is a little one-shot of Bumblebee/an OC, so if that's not your cup of tea, you're not gonna like this! This was actually the first story VC-404 ever appeared in. It was a fill for tfanonkink, and he was invented as just a kind of placeholder, then later actually given a role/character in LMHYW.
> 
> -There's a lot of points in Prime where Optimus talks about how young Bumblebee is and how he hasn't attained this or that rank--for the purposes of this fic, he's meant to be considered fully grown. A young adult, but an adult, even if he's not yet a full fledged warrior.
> 
> -AO3 doesn't let me do nuanced warnings--this fic deals with hormones, or the Cybertronian equivalent thereof, so some might consider this light dubcon. I have, however, endeavored to make it perfectly clear that both parties are equally interested and that Bumblebee is still thinking with a clear head.

It was overcast, which was rare in the sun-baked lands surrounding Jasper, Nevada. The clouds were bruised and low, slowly churning themselves into an electrical frenzy in the sky above. The air was heavy, damp with the promise of coming rain, and charged with the threat of a burgeoning storm. It was a nice day for a quick drive.

Bumblebee, however, was not a happy mech.

It wasn't that he'd been mistreated by his fellows in any way, or that he had suffered any disagreement with his human friend Raf. The discomfort, the feeling of restlessness, had actually started days ago. The young mech's antsy behavior had not escaped their medic's practiced eye, and earlier the day before, Ratchet had finally asked to see Bee in private. A quick examination had confirmed what the medic has suspected, and he had informed Bumblebee that he was finally coming to the end of his first cycle.

The news should have been exciting. With his entrance into a new cycle, perhaps Prime would finally start trusting him with the responsibilities of an adult! Ratchet had found his initial enthusiasm amusing, but had warned him that he would probably be feeling… uncomfortable for the next few weeks as the new cycle got itself going. When Bee had pressed, confused, Ratchet had finally just explained it to him frankly. His body was gearing up for its grand entrance into a long and glorious prime, and, well, these things tended to start with a bang.

Bumblebee had still not quite understood, but had pretended that he had. After all, he didn't want Ratchet to think he was still a child or anything. The very next morning he'd woken from recharge with ghostly electric tingles all over his chassis and a humming in his frame that he recognized. Well, scrap.  _That_  was what Ratchet had meant.

There wasn't much in the way of privacy at the base, and he couldn't ask any of his comrades for help. It wasn't as if their helping him relieve this itch to interface would be anything other than, well, a favor, but frankly he wasn't sure he could let something like that happen without feeling… obligated, somehow, to the mech (or femme) in question. It would just be too  _weird_. The fact that he suspected his older comrades would probably humor him if he really  _did_  ask was what had prompted him to leave for a drive.

It was cool out, and maybe that would help calm the heat buzzing inside of him. The rush of cold air over the sleek curve of the yellow muscle car's hood was certainly soothing, but being out here on the road, all cylinders churning, was actually getting him more worked up. He wondered if humans ever felt this way? Hmm, if they did, Raf was probably too young to have experienced it. He probably shouldn't bring it up. It was quite frustrating to have a problem that he didn't feel he could share with his team. They relied heavily on one another--after all, they were all they had.

As Bee was reflecting on this, a flash in his rear-view mirror caught his attention. He immediately snapped his focus back to the present. There was a sleek purplish vehicle approaching him from behind, rapidly eating up the distance on the road between it and the Autobot scout. Great, just what he needed: a drone.

It gunned its engine, and Bumblebee could only guess what it hoped to accomplish by challenging him. Still… a good chase might help him work off some of this excess energy, and he had to give the drone a bit of credit for its sheer audacity.

He quickly picked up speed, being careful to stick to the less-traveled roads. The drone roared after him, apparently more than game for whatever the Autobot threw its way. Once again, Bee had to admit that he was impressed. He started them off with a trek down a winding mountain road, checking the Vehicon's footwork. It was rather adept at taking the corners without losing speed, drifting when it needed to. When it veered around yet another corner, a quick, sudden shift in the angle of its wheels indicated that it was utilizing the somewhat-hazardous Scandanavian flick technique, Bee realized, with amusement, that it knew he was watching it. _What a show-off!_

He tore away down a straighter road. They were going to have to merge momentarily with a highway in order to continue this chase, and Bee did so carefully, watching the drone for any sign of misbehavior. If he suspected that it was going to drag any humans into this, he would deal with it immediately. To his relief, it seemed only interested in him. It followed him from two lanes away, which was a brash show of its confidence not to lose its target. _This drone is_ really _a piece of work,_ Bumblebee thought to himself, exiting the highway as soon as he was able. After all, he didn't wanting to endanger any unwitting humans during this chase. The drone was right behind him, and as soon as the highway was out of sight, it gunned its engine again, and the chase was on once more.

Bee made the drone run the gauntlet, but it doggedly pursued him. Quick turns didn't shake it, momentary off-road stints didn't shake it,  _nothing_  shook it. There was something about its determined pursuit that was, well, kind of attractive. In fact, Bee discovered, he had gotten  _more_  worked up over the course of the chase rather than  _less._

Well, scrap.

The last thing he needed was a scuffle with a drone while he was… well, while he was feeling  _randy_ , and this drone clearly knew how to drive (it was really only revving his engines _more_ ) which meant that it was going to be hard to shake. It looked as if the only way he was going to get rid of this drone was to try and lose it in a suburban maze, but that would put too many innocents at risk. Even as he was contemplating the best course of action, he couldn't help but dwell on the fact that he couldn't escape from his pursuer, and damn if it didn't get his engines revving even _harder,_ which was a little perplexing and more than a little embarrassing.

It wasn't as if he was in danger. He was more than a match for the drone. It was just the thrill of being pursued, of being  _wanted_ \--oh, slag, the thought alone sent a shiver through the automobile's entire frame. He would rather face an army of drones than deal with this frustration. Wryly, he thought that maybe if he stopped and told the drone that he would rather frag than fight, it'd leave him alone.

… _wait._

Wait, that wasn't such a bad idea. He turned his attention back to the drone, which was coming around a corner, drifting and kicking up dry clouds of desert dust. He was willing to bet that drones, being low-ranking as they were, weren't subject to much attention from their superiors (and if they were, it probably wasn't the sort of attention they liked). Maybe, just maybe, the drone had gotten just as worked up as Bee had over the course of the chase.

The worst-case scenario was that he would be embarrassingly rejected and maybe attacked. And the best-case scenario… hmm. Worth a shot. It should have been a ludicrous idea, but it was a very simple one, with very little risk attached.

He swung off the road once more, putting some real desperation into the spin of his tires and generally trying to look as frantic as he could. The drone, perhaps sensing victory, rocketed after him, hounding his trail even as Bee veered off into the series of canyons that lined the road. Bee didn't try too hard to lose his pursuer at this point, because, frankly, that would be a bit disappointing, but he still tried to make it all look convincing. The frantic pace of his evasions, the sudden turns and the roaring flight, only got the frustrated young scout even  _more_  worked up. Bee actually got himself trapped sooner than he'd intended as he turned a corner to be faced with a dead end.

Bee screeched, shifting to a lower gear and fishtailing, spinning to meet his foe. The drone slowed rapidly as it approached, and Bee held his ground in his alt form, watching the Decepticon carefully. The drone drew to a cautious stop and for a moment the two cars just sat, their rumbling engines echoing off the stone walls around them.

The drone was the first to transform. Physically, it was no different than its clone brethren. Its stance was understandably tense, but when tilted its head slightly, its optic strip trained on Bee, it seemed more curious than anything else--cautious, but curious. "You let me catch you," the drone said.

So much for convincing… or perhaps this mech was smarter than the average drone? Bumblebee transformed, shrugging and replying in the series of beeps that was his sole means of communicating.  _"Well, yeah."_

The drone remained where it stood. "Why? What are you plotting, Autobot?"

Bumblebee really could not honestly think of any tasteful way to bring his intentions up, so he decided not to try to be tasteful. Might as well go for the throat.  _"Wanna interface?"_

Drones didn't have the most expressive faces, but its body language was easy enough to read. It jumped, and hesitated, obviously running a diagnostic on its translation software to make sure it was interpreting Bee's speech properly. "I--excuse me-- _what?"_

Bee couldn't help but be amused at such a polite response. It was probably too taken aback to think of any sort of creative insult.  _"I asked if you wanted to interface. You know, fragging? Swapping paint?"_

The drone tilted its head to an even steeper angle, as if this would somehow help it-- _him_ \--comprehend this highly unusual request. Bee chuckled audibly at this, and the sound came out as a musical warble. "Is this some kind of joke?"

 _"See for yourself."_  Bee let his EM field flare in invitation, and for a moment the drone recoiled, startled by the scout's forwardness. Bee was sure not to move, though, letting the drone keep as much distance as he wanted. He was inviting, not pushing. Tentatively, as if he were expecting an attack at any moment, the drone uncoiled his own tightly-bound EM field (which was weaker than a regular Cybertronian's, Bee noticed, but every bit as complex, as  _rich_ ) and let them gently overlap as he examined what Bee offered him.

Be held very still while the Vehicon made his investigations. After a handful of minutes, the drone straightened. For a moment or two longer he remained silent, and then, slowly, carefully, he asked, "What are my options?"

Bumblebee kept his manner as calm as he could.  _"Either we frag, or I leave."_  A pause.  _"I'm not going to hurt you or… or anything. If you don't want to, I'll just go."_  He had done his best to put the drone at ease. He didn't want the Vehicon to think that he was going to force the issue.

The drone cocked his head again. "Hmm." There was a hint of approval in the drone's deep voice. Bee suspected that it was the fact that he had offered the Vehicon a clear choice that appealed to him, and he felt an unexpected tug of sympathy for his enemy. Had this drone been in a similar situation before, only without the option of a choice? Bee didn't know. He supposed he might never know. Now the drone really gave him a once-over, taking in the various angles and aspects of the yellow scout's body with subtle flicks of his mask-like face. Bee straightened a little and flicked his doorwings in what he hoped was an inviting way. The drone laughed. "You  _are_  eager. Well, sure. Why not?"

He approached Bumblebee, readily but still with the tension of caution in his limbs. Bee held still, partially because he didn't want to startle the drone away, and partially because he frankly wasn't sure how to start this. He decided to begin at the beginning. " _Do you have a name?"_

The drone shrugged. "Serial number's VC-404."

" _And I'm-"_

" _You're_  Bumblebee," 404 interjected, "Optimus Prime's prized scout. Of  _course_  I know who you are." Perhaps somewhat emboldened by his interruption, he reached up to lightly touch Bumblebee's armor, which was warm to the touch. "You are ready to go. You weren't kidding," he muttered. Bumblebee brought his hands up to reciprocate, but the drone seemed happy to carry on his own explorations, and did not hold still for Bee's hands. "Hmm." 404 splayed one palm over the silvery surface of Bee's abdomen, which was distracting, and when the other slid over the scout's shoulder to lightly brush a doorwing, Bumblebee outright jerked, startled at the burst of sensation.

His fans kicked in, whirring loudly and echoing in the canyon. 404 chuckled again. "You  _really_  weren't kidding," he amended. Bee flicked the doorwing back against 404's hand, and the drone obligingly ran his fingertips carefully over the sleek finish, trailing towards the joint.

" _Well what do you expect, after that chase?"_ Bee demanded, a bit defensively.

"That chase got you worked up like this? Hell, if I'd have known I was turning you on, I would have put a little more effort into it." Bumblebee was fairly certain this was just 404 being cocky. He had put that drone through his paces. "And I would have probably ridden your bumper a little harder."

Bumblebee shuddered, and the drone felt it. 404 made a wordless sound of approval and increased his explorations, digging his fingers into the joint where Bee's doorwing met his back (Primus, that actually felt  _good_ ), sliding the sharp digits of his other hand into the seams of Bee's armor, mapping out sensitive areas that the scout hadn't even really known he had. Bee finally gathered his wits about him enough to return the favor, and he tentatively began to explore his partner's anatomy.

They were still feeling one another out, and in more than the literal sense. Despite their agreement, they were both pretty tense, but Bumblebee's eagerness quickly dispelled any misgivings that 404 had, and 404's unexpectedly skillful manipulation of Bee's chassis only further strengthened the Autobot's resolve. They were both struck by how different they were from one another: the drone was all sharp angles and slim lines, dark and gleaming, while Bumblebee was much more solid, rounded, and durable.

The more he explored, the bolder the drone became, to Bee's surprise. He hadn't really had time to form any expectations as far as how this sort of thing would proceed, but he hadn't thought a Vehicon drone would be so assertive. As 404's fans finally whirred to life, he leaned forward, transferring his grip to Bumblebee's shoulders and purposefully grinding their hip plating together. Bumblebee made a low series of rapid beeps, the closest he could come to a groan, at the stimulation against his interface panel.

The drone chuckled lightly, clearly amused by the sound. "That's different." Bumblebee's bright blue optics irised to a small point, a clear indicator of his annoyance at being made fun of, and 404 quickly explained, "No, I mean, in a good way. I'm looking forward to more, if you catch my drift." He leaned forward, bumping the side of his mask against Bumblebee's cheek and speaking directly into the scout's audial, "I wonder what sound you're going to make when I spike you?"

 _Click._  For a moment Bumblebee just stood there, rigid, still shell-shocked by hearing those words from a Vehicon, and it didn't occur to him to wonder what had made the sound until he heard the drone chuckling again, and he looked down. At the mere suggestion from the drone, both of his interface panels had slid neatly to the side. His valve was exposed, and his spike was half-pressurized.

Well,  _that_  was a little embarrassing.

"You don't do this often, do you?" The drone asked, pushing gently at Bumblebee's shoulders and guiding him back against the ground.

" _What do you think?"_ He replied, embarrassed and a little irritated and thinking to himself that this was  _not_  the way things were supposed to go. Neither emotion was strong enough to drive him to bring a stop to the proceedings, however. They were easily swept away by a tide of sheer anticipation.

"I  _think,"_  404 replied, "that you don't get 'faced nearly as much as you should." As Bumblebee settled his weight against his elbows, the drone leaned back, kneeling between the scout's legs and trailing his sharp fingers over the flared black-and-yellow molding of Bumblebee's hips. His earlier hip-grinding maneuver had marred the surface with a streak of purple. He seemed pleased by the sight. "A cryin' shame."

Bee was torn between being pleased and feeling awkward about the fact that the drone apparently found him attractive, but before he could reach a definite decision on the matter, he felt the drone's hand wandering down from his handiwork to pause just outside the rim of his valve. Bumblebee immediately looked to 404's face. The drone tilted his head questioningly. Bumblebee wasn't sure if he was asking permission or if he just wanted to see the Autobot ask for it, but at that point he was quite beyond caring. He nodded.

The Vehicon slid his sharp-tipped finger carefully into Bumblebee's valve. "Lubed up and ready to go," 404 mused, "already." Bumblebee would have tried to gather his wits into a snappy retort, but he was much more focused on the sensation of that thin finger slowly, deftly sliding deeper, tripping sensor cluster after sensor cluster as it did.

Primus, how the Pit did a drone know how to  _do_  that? A low, drawn-out chirp was Bumblebee's only response to 404's observation. The drone carefully withdrew, sliding two fingers inside with the same care and attention. His mask-like face was fixed on the brightly-colored Autobot beneath him, who was shuddering lightly at the gentle, gradual stimulation. Slowly, 404 worked his fingers back and forth. When Bumblebee twitched his hips slightly in an abortive attempt to drive the fingers deeper, 404 took the subtle hint and scissored them.

Bumblebee chirped loudly, startled, and his hips hitched downward again. 404 remained mostly still, maintaining admirable control. Only the whirring of his fans indicated that he was aroused at all. Once more the drone pulled away, and before the scout could protest three fingers were sliding inside him. The scout chirred and spread his legs wider, arching off the ground.

A soft  _snck_  alerted him that the drone had finally opened his interface panels. Somewhere in the muddle of Bumblebee's increasingly erratic thoughts, he was aware that it might have very well been the simple sight of him offering himself to the Vehicon that had done the trick. 404 drew back and slid his hands under the scout's legs, lifting them and aligning their hips.

He looked back up, meeting Bumblebee's gaze for a moment, his immovable face inscrutable. He held Bumblebee's stare as he carefully slid inside, utterly silent. Bee shuddered and held still, willing himself not to move, to let the Vehicon set the pace. The drone wasn't especially large, but Bumblebee was simply not used to interfacing. His valve clenched, the slow intrusion hovering on a sensation halfway between pleasure and pain.

Finally the Vehicon brought their hips flush, and for a moment they held themselves still while Bumblebee adjusted. Bumblebee was making low beeping noises, shuddering and clenching in intermittent spasms at the feeling of being stretched, of being filled with that heavy and hard spike. "Primus," 404 groaned, "you are  _tight,_  scout." He began to move, slowly, dragging his hips back partway and then sliding back in. " _Mmm."_

The pace was slow, and Bumblebee had enough presence of mind to be grateful to have a partner that seemed to genuinely want him to enjoy the experience. Eventually his valve relaxed, and the friction, combined with a new copious flow of lubricant, eased the sensation of stretching and fullness into something much more viscerally satisfying. Sparks of genuine pleasure were finally humming along the sensor nodes, and with a low-toned, appreciate beep, Bumblebee began to rock into the Vehicon, encouraging him to move faster.

404 shifted slightly, positioning himself for better leverage, and obligingly picked up the pace. The drone did so slowly, though, tortuously prolonging the experience. The gentle sparks became jolts with every new roll of 404's hips, and it wasn't long before those jolts began to meld together into a constant low hum of pleasure. Bumblebee felt his vents beginning to hitch. This was… certainly not what he'd been expecting. He had thought their coupling would be swift and messy, but this drone was spiking him like he knew every inch of Bee's body. The slow build of pleasure was nicer than he'd expected from the Decepticon.

Bumblebee's hips rose and fell in counterpoint. Each careful push further relaxed the yellow mech's inexperienced valve, and each thrust slid a little deeper. Bee was just settling into the slowly-cresting rhythm when he heard 404 speak. "All warmed up?"

Bumblebee hadn't realized that he'd fully shuttered his optics until he brought them back online, and he stared at the drone, who had his narrow head cocked slightly.

"Good." The drone leaned over him, drew his hips away, and then slammed them home.

Bumblebee arched with a startled chirp, but before he could gather his wits the drone was out, and then suddenly, almost violently, he was  _in_  again. The low hum of pleasure erupted into a sudden and unexpected inferno--Bumblebee was aware that he was arching into it even as a third thrust hit home, ramming into a deep-seated set of sensor nodes. Bumblebee reeled, sensing blazing, pleasure racing all through him; he thrashed, and then 404 leaned over him, his entire purple-toned chassis a tense curve of concentration, and he began to pound into the scout beneath him.

Bumblebee loosed a binary wail, his blunt fingertips digging into the ground beneath him, his back arched, the metal of his hips squealing against the darker exoskeleton of his partner. He writhed as the Vehicon pounded into him relentlessly, each deep, desperate thrust only sending the scout further and further into the roiling pleasure that 404 had unexpectedly unleashed on him.

"Frag," Bumblebee was dimly aware of the Vehicon's voice. "Frag, you're so  _good."_  Bumblebee couldn't bring himself to form a response. He just continued to cry out musically, arching and grinding, the smooth rhythm of his hips lost to fitful, desperate jerks as the drone pushed him against the ground and fucked him. The Vehicon gave a strangled snarl, clearly pleased at how quickly Bumblebee had lost control, but the Autobot didn't have the mental coherence to even be offended by this because the pleasure was building to an impossible intensity. He was distantly aware that he was  _wailing_ , his damaged vocoder crackling and releasing bursts of white noise under the frantic chirps and beeps.

404's engine roared in lust and triumph. "Just let it go, Autobot," he hissed, "just let it go, c'mon, give it up to me--"

White-hot ecstasy and shock shot through Bumblebee's processor, and for a moment there was only room in his mind for that notion-that he was being fragged by a Decepticon, that he was  _letting_  that Decepticon do this to him--and that was it, it was too much, he arched rigidly against the dirt, grinding himself up against the angular dark chassis of the Vehicon, valve clenching and frame shuddering as mindless pleasure wracked his body. Overload surged through him and sharp blue-white crackles of electricity chased themselves over the rounded angles of the scout's frame.

Then it was over, and Bee sagged against the ground, shuddering and twitching. His optics flickered back online and he concentrated on venting for a moment, his processor still reeling from his overload. That had… certainly not been what he'd expected. The Vehicon hummed, a sound of vaguely amused satisfaction still arched over him, his talons locked on Bee's hips. Bee wasn't aware until he moved that the Decepticon was still sheathed inside of him, and still pressurized. He hadn't overloaded.

Bumblebee's optics irised to narrow points in humiliation, and he immediately began to babble an apology. The Vehicon's hum just turned into full-blown laughter, and for a moment Bee became irritated. Then the absurdity of the situation dawned on him--an Autobot apologizing to a Decepticon for not getting him off--and his apology trailed into the musical series of beeps that served as his only verbal expression of mirth.

"Sorry, sorry," 404 snickered, "I didn't meant to--I'm not laughing at _you._ Just..."

 _"At the situation,"_ Bumblebee finished for him. 

"Yeah. Don't take this as a bad sign or anything. You were great," 404 went on as Bumblebee pushed himself up a bit, cocking his head questioningly. 404 began to draw back, which only served to deepen the young Autobot's confusion. Bumblebee gestured towards the Vehicon's hips, but he was waved away. "Nah, I got this. You'll see. Besides, I ain't done with you yet." He leaned over and trailed his talons lightly down Bumblebee's stomach, just above the other's still-pressurized spike. "If you're game for round two…?"

Bumblebee couldn't nod fast or eagerly enough. Just to make sure that he was not misunderstood, he quickly added in a yes or two. Or maybe five.

404's engine gave a low rumble of approval, and he began to trail the tips of his talons back and forth. "Good." He let them trail down, their touches feather-light, until the back of his hand came to rest against Bee's spike. Slowly, carefully, he closed his fingers around it. "Sometimes," he sighed, "I wish I had a glossa."

Bumblebee shuddered.

"But hey, I guess it just means I get to be creative instead, hm?" The Vehicon lowered himself down, and Bumblebee watched him, transfixed. "Sit up a bit. This is going to be fun."

Bumblebee obliged, watching with a curiously tilted head as the Vehicon stooped, further lowering himself until he had settled between Bee's legs, his optic strip level with the scout's hard spike. He pumped his hand up and down the spike in a few leisurely strokes. It was nice, but Bee was still recovering from his initial overload, and hadn't built up much of a charge. He considered warning his partner—after all, he didn't want the drone to spend too much time trying to work him back up when 404 hadn't even relieved his first overload.

404 lowered his head and very carefully nuzzled his smooth metal cheek against Bumblebee's spike, venting a contented sigh. The sight of the Decepticon kneeling between his legs, nuzzling his spike in an almost  _worshipful_  manner sent a wave of heat through Bumblebee, who then decided that maybe it wouldn't take that long for the Vehicon to work him to a proper charge once again.

"So you see," 404 began conversationally, and Bee gave a startled beep at the feeling of his voice vibrating through the metal surface of his mask against his sensitive spike, "why I wouldn't mind having a glossa--well, a mouth, every now and then. I think I'd  _like_  sucking you off, if I ever got a chance to do it. Heh. I bet you'd love it, too." The Vehicon continued to carefully nuzzle. There were many sharp features that comprised his face, none of which would feel pleasant against the highly-sensitive portion of Bumblebee's anatomy that he currently happened to be lathering with attention, but 404 knew how to angle his face properly so that only smooth metal made contact.

He had done this before. There was no doubt about it. Bumblebee wondered, dizzily, what exactly the drones did in their free time to be so good at impromptu interfaces. 404 hummed contentedly, carefully nuzzling one side of Bumblebee's spike while leisurely trailing his fingers up the other side.

Bumblebee felt obliged to say something. Even in situations like this, the young scout was competitive. " _What do you drones_  do  _all day? 'Face each other silly?"_

404 laughed, and Bumblebee shuddered deeply at the vibration against his spike. That charge was definitely coming along. "I would say no, but I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you? Hey, maybe you should come and visit sometime. I bet my brothers would love to have a go at you. And  _I'd_  love to watch."

Bumblebee's eyes widened at the mental image. A crush of amorous drones, 404 watching on with languid interest... he was surprised by how much he liked it. " _Uh, well…"_

His less-than-snappy response clearly amused 404, who snickered and dragged his mask in a long, slow slide down Bumblebee's length. It was already leaking pre-interface lubricant, and this smeared against 404's cheek. The scout gave a low warbling chip of appreciation at the sight. 404 chuckled again and shifted his weight slightly. Bumblebee only noticed then that the drone was rocking slightly, rhythmically. One of his arms was moving-Bee leaned ever-so-slightly to the side, and saw that 404 had the fingers of his free hand wrapped around his own spike. He was pleasuring himself.

Oh, frag, that was  _hot_. That was far hotter than it had any right to be. Bumblebee stared, riveted, and 404 paused in his ministrations, sitting up slightly and following Bumblebee's gaze. "Oh, you like to watch, too?" He straightened fully. "Here, then let's try this." Before Bumblebee could protest, the Vehicon clambered into his lap. He wasn't exactly light, but nor was he unpleasantly heavy. His frame was sturdy without being heavy-duty, and the position was not uncomfortable. Bee moved his hands to 404's waist, helping the drone steady himself, and received a low purr from the Decepticon's engine in way of thanks.

Carefully, 404 lined up their spikes. Bumblebee shivered again. 404 rolled his hips forward in an easy motion, and both mechs groaned (the sound that came from Bumblebee was a low, static-filled bleep) at the slick slide of spike against spike. "Yeah, that's good. You like that, scout?"

Bumblebee responded by reaching forward with one hand, enveloping both of their spikes as much as he was able, and stroking. 404 gave a light laugh, clearly delighted by the eager response, steadying himself by gripping one of Bumblebee's shoulders and reaching down with his free hand to help Bumblebee. Once again the scout was struck by how  _different_  they were, with 404s dark angular body so close to his own, with his fearsomely-taloned fingers moving right alongside Bumblebee's own thicker, rounded ones.

Once again, it really,  _really_  revved his engines. 404's hips were starting to move in uneven jerks. "Not gonna- _nngh,"_  He was venting hard. "Not gonna last real long, scout."

It was the first time that the drone had lost his composure, and Bumblebee decided he quite liked that. " _It's about time,"_  he teased, pleased at the way the balance of this encounter was shifting.

404 laughed again, and Bumblebee craned his neck forward to gently bump his mask against the drone's; 404 responded by undulating his entire body forward in one slow, sinuous arch, eagerly returning the gesture, nuzzling the cheek that had recently been expressing affection for Bee's spike against the scout's own cheek. Neither of them could kiss, so this was about as close as they could get. Considering the current situation, neither of them were complaining.

They found a rhythm, and Bumblebee began to mimic 404's motions, rolling his hips forward at the same time that the drone did. His charge was still not ready to crest, but it was getting there, and Bumblebee supposed that his readiness for a round two had something to do with his reproductive cycle.

When 404 overloaded, it was with only a light gasp as warning. Bumblebee was startled by the hot gush of transfluid against his fingers, but he stroked faster, letting the thick, silvery liquid lubricate his stroking hand, moving in frantic tandem with the Decepticon's own. The air crackled with electricity, and the sharp tang of ozone filled Bumblebee's sensors as the Decepticon arched into the last of his aftershocks. 404 gave a deep shiver, and sighed.

Bumblebee stilled his hand, knowing that 404 was probably feeling a bit hypersensitive at the moment. The drone vented hard for a few minutes, leaning heavily on Bee, who re-positioned his hands to help support the Decepticon in his lap. 404 bumped the side of his mask against Bumblebee's in an expression of thanks. Bumblebee waited patiently for him to recover, marveling over the oddness of their current situation, but also rather liking it.

"I get the feeling," 404 finally said, "that you probably don't do this a lot. Even so, scout, you're a real class act. Thanks for the breather." Bumblebee was going to reply when 404 shifted and raised his hips, and, in a single, fluid motion, sheathed Bumblebee's spike in his valve. It was an easy liquid slide, given that Bumblebee was slick with his own pre-lube, as well as the drone's transfluid. Bumblebee jerked upward once, instinctively, and earned a genuinely surprised yelp from his partner.

" _Sorry-"_

"Don't apologize, Autobot, do it  _again,"_  404 replied him with a shaky laugh.

Bumblebee sensed the challenge in the words, and he would have grinned had he still possessed a face. He decided to give 404 just what he asked for, and rolled back up into that welcoming heat. 404 gave a light, almost inaudible moan, and straightened, placing his hands on Bumblebee's shoulders. The scout decided that that wasn't nearly enough noise for him, and made another sudden jerk upward, almost before he'd fully withdrawn, driving the Vehicon higher. 404 gave another startled, sharp sound.

Bumblebee shifted his hands down to 404's hips, and the Vehicon shifted his legs so that he was properly astride Bumblebee. He began to rock up and down, riding the spike below him, and for a moment Bumblebee let him set the pace before he jerked up, once more startling his partner, who finally groaned, "You are  _teasin'_  me, scout." He lowered his voice, which was underlaid with a thin layer of static, "Show me how an Autobot frags."

Pure heat roiled through Bumblebee's frame and he began to buck in earnest, each upward motion jerking the Vehicon. He was trying to keep himself quiet, but he was unable to stop himself from making low, musical noises of pleasure. 404 shuddered, and Bee realized that his sounds were actually turning the Vehicon on. Sensing another advantage, he leaned forward, crooning wordlessly in the Decepticon's audial, and was rewarded with another visceral shudder from his partner.

"C'mon," the Vehicon gasped, " _spike_  me!"

The words seemed to flip a switch in Bumblebee, and his hips beat a fervent, staccato rhythm, the armor of his hips clanging against the Vehicon's. 404 gave a low, hoarse moan of appreciation, increasing the fervency of his own movements, venting frantically. "Just like that, just like- _mmm!"_

404's hands were clutching at Bumblebee's shoulders for support, the sharp talons digging into the armor. Bumblebee had just enough processor space left to realize that holding on like that was probably a bit of a strain on his partner's arms. He readjusted his grip, momentarily stilling his hips, much to the Vehicon's confusion. Before 404 could protest, Bee nudged him back slightly.

The drone understood, and leaned back, allowing Bumblebee to guide him against the ground. The scout pulled away, and 404 hurriedly lay back against the dirt, his valve clenching at the empty air, eager to be filled again. The simple change in position was much more appealing than Bumblebee had expected. The drone's slight height advantage was not apparent in this position, and he looked almost slim under the Autobot's rounded bulk. He liked the idea of covering the drone, of being the one to  _give_  pleasure this time around. He steadied himself with his hands, and then paused, looking down, unsure exactly how he was going to properly re-align their hips without falling over.

404 laughed, but the sound was choked with static and nowhere near as smug as it had sounded before. He arched his back and wrapped his legs around Bumblebee's waist, slowly sinking down over the scout's length again with a long, shuddering sigh through his vents. He really  _was_  good at this. Bumblebee began cautiously, unsure of how to best proceed in this new position, and the drone arched under him impatiently, following his every movement, desperate for more stimulus. Bumblebee felt a little bit guilty that he wasn't better at this. Poor 404 was doing his best to make up for the scout's awkwardness, writhing lithely beneath him. Bumblebee stilled his hips for a moment, admiring the sight.

"What're you waiting for?" 404 asked, bucking up against him.

Bumblebee felt his optics dim slightly and he shivered. " _Tell me,"_  he said simply. He was half-afraid that 404 might get impatient or offended, but he was feeling emboldened by the way he seemed to cover and engulf his smaller partner, by the feel of that valve clenching desperately around him.

404 did not, in fact, get impatient, but rather gave a strangled laugh, "You devious little-- _frag_  me!"

Bumblebee finally began to oblige in the drone's request, and 404 gave the most delightful, rough moan at the long-awaited friction. "Yeah, yeah,  _c'mon._ " 404's vocoder crackled, his deep voice occasionally succumbing to bursts of static and Bumblebee picked up his pace, driven to further hunger by the sound. His talons scrabbled at Bumblebee's armor, desperate for purchase. "That's right, that's  _right_ \--harder!"

Bumblebee obliged, and the 404 goaded him on, demanding with his voice and with his body until Bumblebee was pounding into him, fucking him  _hard,_  harder than the drone fragged  _him,_  and 404 was clearly loving every second of it, working himself into a writhing mess beneath the Autobot.

Bumblebee's own vocalizations joined his, both of them heedless to whoever might hear, mindless to anything but the violent crashing of their bodies, of the overwhelming pleasure burning through every component in their frames. 404's hands were gripping Bumblebee, curled around the scout's chest and over his back so that their chests were pressed together. Bumblebee could feel the frantic beat of the drone's spark against his. The air crackled, but their charges held yet.

Bumblebee found himself wailing, wordlessly begging for release even as his hips pistoned against the Vehicon's; 404 had lapsed into Cybertronian, and was repeating between gasps, a desperate mantra, "Yes, yes,  _yes_ ," driven beyond the mental capacity for anything other than this plea for more, this exhilarated acknowledgement of Bee's prowess. The cocky drone that had chased Bee and almost coolly overloaded him whimpered, actually  _whimpered_  under the force of the pounding he was receiving, and that was it--Bee felt overload take him once again.

He released himself inside the Vehicon, the knowledge that he was pumping the drone full of Autobot transfluid only intensifying the experience. 404 arched and  _screamed_ , overload ripping through him, his valve convulsing around Bee's spike, milking it for every last drop. For a moment they both hung there, making soft, static-choked vocalizations, clinging together on the peak of their climax, before they began to sink back down to themselves, aftershocks shuddering through their frames.

They remained where they were, venting hard, still locked together, for a few minutes. 404 was the first to move, stirring sluggishly where he rested against the ground. When he spoke again, it was with his characteristic nonchalance. "Well."

Bumblebee gave a musical, beeping laugh. " _Well."_

"You're a slaggin' natural, Bumblebee."

For some reason, the use of his name sent an unexpected burst of warmth through him. Bumblebee tipped his head to one side. " _Thanks. You're not so bad yourself. 404."_

404 folded one arm behind his head, pillowing his head on it, while raising the other to give Bumblebee an earth gesture of approval: a thumbs-up. "Thanks. I've had practice." 404 seemed content to lie there, still connected, but when Bumblebee began to shift his weight to get into a more comfortable position, the drone drew away and stood, a bit wobbly, but overall stable.

404 gave a light gasp as his valve clenched in an attempt to remove extra lubricant from it, and Bumblebee watched, transfixed, as a gush of valve lubricant run through with his own silvery transfluid dribbled between the drone's shaky legs. He felt a twist of visceral satisfaction at the sight. He  _liked_  that. 404 noticed him looking and huffed softly in what seemed to be amusement, but did not comment. Bumblebee rolled over and simply collapsed against the ground, watching the grey clouds roil overhead. The cool pre-storm air felt wonderful against his overheated frame, and he was truly sated.

He felt 404 come over to him and lie down beside him. This was certainly  _not_  how Bumblebee had thought he would be spending his afternoon. The knowledge that he had just interfaced,  _twice_ , with a Decepticon, should have filled him with shame. Instead, it filled him with exhilaration.

"Are your… companions going to miss you?" 404 finally asked.

Bumblebee understood what the question really meant. 404 didn't want to be around if other Autobots showed up looking for Bee. They would probably shoot first and ask questions later. " _Not likely. I'm… well. They know I've been a little… uh. I'm coming at the end of my first cycle, so…"_

"Ah. Alone time." 404 gave Bee another thumbs-up. "Drones don't have cycles, but hey, I heard it can be a real pain. Glad I could be of assistance. So  _that's_  why you were so keyed up, huh? And here I thought it was my driving."

" _Your racing helped,"_  Bumblebee chirped back. 404 chuckled and gave a languid stretch. It was an appealing sight, but Bumblebee was worn out, and it looked as if his companion was, as well. " _What about you? Should I…?"_

The drone shook his head. "Nah. They don't keep  _that_  close tabs on me. As far as they're concerned, VC-404 was never here." He let the sentence hang for a moment as the two of them simply lay, letting their frames cool and watching the endless grey expanse of cloud overhead. "And, y'know, in case you're interested, I most definitely  _won't_  be here next week, either." A pause. "Around four." Another pause. "In the afternoon. On Wednesday."

Bumblebee glanced over to 404, who was looking in his direction. " _You know what?"_  he beeped, " _Neither will I."_


End file.
